


Dance with Me

by LacePendragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Vaguely V7 Era, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: Qrow doesn't know how to dance. James offers to show him. Not much dancing gets done, but that's all right, they have all the time in the world.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 26
Kudos: 83





	Dance with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just gotta write something obnoxiously sweet to deal with all the angst you're writing elsewhere. Cheers!

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know how to dance’?” asked James, tone incredulous. He shook his head, staring at Qrow over the kitchen island of their shared apartment. Qrow shrugged, leaning on his folded arms.

“Can’t dance,” said Qrow. “Not the way you’re talking about, anyway. Club dancing, fast dancing, time-to-get-laid dancing? Yeah, I can do that. But this slow, formal, waltz-y and ballroom shit? I haven’t got a clue.” Qrow flipped his bangs out of his eyes – he needed a haircut – and flashed a crooked grin at James. “You really that surprised? I never slow danced when we were in school.”

James opened his mouth, then stopped, closing it and frowning. “I never noticed.”

“You were too busy making out with me in the corner,” said Qrow, drily. James pinked and Qrow grinned. Married together almost eight years and he could still manage that at a moment’s notice. Good for the ego. “We never really ‘danced’ at those dances.”

James let out a huff. “Right, that would have been too predictable.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t change the current situation, however. The gala for Robyn will require dancing, Qrow, especially for myself and my partner.” Qrow warmed at the word. Atlas was a cold, sterile place, but there were some things about it that made the white on white on chrome worth it. Like being James’ partner. And watching Jacques Schnee lose his shit over James having the biggest heart of anyone they knew. “You’ll need to learn.”

“Can’t I just follow you?” asked Qrow, raising an eyebrow. “Works pretty well with most Atlas shit.”

Most ‘Atlas shit,’” James used air quotes. It was kind of adorable, “doesn’t involve highly scrutinized social activities that will determine the feelings of everyone in the room.”

Qrow cocked his head to one side. “Really? Kind of thought that was Atlas’ whole shtick.”

James sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Qrow grinned.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me,” teased Qrow.

“Of course, I do. That doesn’t change you being _insufferable._ ” James narrowed his eyes at Qrow and Qrow’s grin widened.

“Maybe not, but I like hearing it, anyway.”

James’s gaze softened. “I love you.” Qrow beamed. “You still need to learn how to dance.” Qrow pouted.

“Can’t I just hang out at the punch bowl and look pretty?” asked Qrow. He’d already been poked and prodded plenty by tailors trying to make an outfit for him that suited Atlas’ fancy standards. When he’d asked if he could just wear his hunting outfit, they’d all gasped, aghast, and told James that they couldn’t believe his husband was such a ruffian.

Qrow hadn’t stopped grinning for hours.

“This is a formal Atlas gala, there won’t be a punch bowl, just waiters circling with far too many flutes of champagne,” said James.

Qrow grimaced. Great. So, not only did he have to wear fucking formal ass restricting clothing and learn how to dance, he also had to spend the evening avoiding being asked if he wanted a drink, when he did, and pretending he wasn’t a recovering alcoholic, which he was.

“You sure I can’t mysteriously come down with the flu right before this thing?” asked Qrow, staring down at the kitchen counters.

A shuffle of movement. James circled the counter and wrapped his arms around Qrow from behind, resting his chin on Qrow’s shoulder. He hummed, breath tickling Qrow’s ear.

“You could,” he murmured, voice travelling through his chest and into Qrow’s back. “But I warn you, people would talk. We’d have to think of an excuse for you.”

Qrow closed his eyes and leaned back into James, tilting his head back so James could pepper kisses to his neck. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I think I’d be moderately upset, but I recognize that going near alcohol is hard for you, especially in social situations,” replied James. “I wouldn’t take offense. We wouldn’t be able to spend the night together, though, because I can’t miss the event.”

Qrow sighed. He could sit this one out, if he wanted. James wouldn’t judge him. He knew that. Hell, the kids wouldn’t judge him either. But would _he_ judge himself? Probably. He wanted to be able to go places, enjoy himself, without worrying about alcohol or fear or any of that bullshit. But it was like his semblance – always there, even when he didn’t want it to be.

Plus, was he really going to turn down the opportunity to see James in his dress uniform, gussied up and elegant in a way Qrow had never seen anyone else be? Or miss the opportunity to dress up and be carted around as the most important person to Atlas’ most important person?

He wasn’t one for the spotlight, but there was something deeply pleasing about being on James’ arm, watching as James introduced Qrow as his husband to everyone in Atlas who didn’t already know him. The looks on their faces usually helped.

The slow realization of a) holy shit the General has a heart, to b) holy shit the General is gay, to c) holy shit the General’s husband is some kind of ragtag vagabond with a bad mouth, was _fantastic_ and one of the highlights of any high class event with James. It helped that James always took it in stride and laughed warmly at whatever came his way.

Qrow, as Marrow put it, made James warmer, kinder, and infinitely more human while he was around. Something else Qrow preened at whenever it came up.

Making someone better was something he’d never thought he could do. And yet, here he was.

“Qrow?” James’ voice drew Qrow from his thoughts and he tilted his head a bit to look back at James, who furrowed his brow at him. “Are you all right? I think I lost you for a minute.”

Qrow hummed and turned in James’ arms, winding his own around James’ neck and tugging him down for a kiss. James made a noise of surprise against Qrow’s lips before kissing back, nudging Qrow against the island for leverage. Qrow wound his fingers in the hairs at the back of James’ neck, his mouth moving against James’ warm one.

They pulled back, foreheads together.

“Think I’ll go,” said Qrow, his breath ghosting James’ lips. James’ eyes lit up.

“You’re certain?” he asked.

Qrow gave a minute nod, just enough to say yes without pulling away from James. “Yeah. Think it’d be good for me. Besides, can’t let you have _all_ the fun making digs at the Atlas elite.”

James chuckled, warm, and pecked Qrow on the lips, sending tingles down Qrow’s jaw and into his spine. “You’re right about that. Who’s going to laugh at all my terrible, veiled insults if not you?”

“Winter might,” said Qrow.

“Winter’s going to spend the evening trying to avoid Jacques while also pretending she’s not trying to avoid Jacques,” said James, drily. He rolled his eyes. “I swear, if she simply asked for the night off, I’d give it to her, but she takes personal offense when I insist that she do so. As if I think she’s weak, rather than I’m trying to help her.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “Pot, kettle.”

James grimaced and shifted Qrow in his arms. “All right, all right. You have me there.” Then, with all the grace of a dying bird, he swept in and changed the subject. “Now, about this gala. You’re going to need to dance.”

Qrow tightened his arms around James’ neck. “Yeah? And who’s gonna teach me?” His tone was teasing, but his heart was warm and fast in his chest. He’d seen James dance a handful of times – usually spinning some member of Team STRQ around a ballroom, laughing at their antics as they tripped over their own feet. The only one of them that could keep up with James was Taiyang, and Qrow had never managed to figure out why.

Raven had always stepped on his feet and Summer was too short to keep up, so she’d just stood on his feet in her socks.

It had always been cute, even if the memories, now, were bittersweet and caused a pang in Qrow’s chest.

James’ dancing hadn’t been cute, though. It had been gorgeous, elegant, brilliant. A way for him to showcase grace and power in one beautiful, smooth way. If Qrow had his way, he’d have a permanent camera on James, to watch him in everything. The elegance of his dancing, the sheer brutality of his fighting, the way he chewed on his metal knuckles when he was looking over contracts he hated.

Or the way he smiled when he watched people he cared about talk about things they were passionate about, like Ruby with weapons, or Blake with books, or Yang with fighting styles. The way he laughed when he helped everyone train. The way he hummed and swayed to the radio when he cooked.

And a hundred other things that Qrow watched whenever he got the chance.

God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

“I suppose that would be me,” said James. He raised an eyebrow at Qrow – the right one, so his metal eyebrow rose with it – and flashed him a crooked, cheeky smile. “If that’s not too disagreeable.”

Qrow hummed and tugged James closer, raising his eyebrows and wiggling his hips. “Hmm, I dunno Jim, that sounds like a pretty raw deal to me. Maybe you should sweeten it a little.”

James rolled his eyes. “You’re terrible,” he said, but he was laughing, and he let Qrow drag him in for another warm, smiley kiss.

“All right,” said Qrow, pulling back and pecking James’ nose. “So, show me how to dance.”

James’ eyebrows shot up – both, this time. “Right now? Right here?”

Qrow shrugged. “No time like the present, Jimbo.” He pulled his arms from James and slipped out of his grasp, darting into the open area of the apartment he and James called home. He held out one hand. “You wanna show me what you’re made of?”

James let out a soft sigh, a tone of affection in even that breath, and took Qrow’s hand. “You are aware that I’m going to lead, right?”

Qrow grinned. “Obviously.” James curled their fingers together and put his left hand on Qrow’s waist. The cool touch of his prosthetic fingers made Qrow smile, and he squeezed harder at those fingers while he moved his other arm up to rest on James’ shoulder.

“It’s really not that hard,” said James. “Most of the dances we do in Atlas are quite simple with a lot of flashy extras tacked on after the fact.”

“That sounds like everything Atlas does,” said Qrow, drily.

James rolled his eyes. He shifted their bodies, so they were a little closer together. “Let’s start with a basic waltz.” He shifted Qrow slightly to the side of him. “Now, I’m going to step forward with my left foot, and I want you to step back at the same time.”

Qrow nodded. That seemed simple enough. He could manage that. He stared down at his feet to watch for when James moved. James let out a quiet chuckle.

“No, no. Qrow, you have to look at my face for this,” said James. He released his fingers from Qrow’s and tilted his chin up until Qrow could meet his gaze again. Qrow ducked his head just enough to press a kiss to the sides of James’ fingertips.

James blushed. Qrow smiled.

Then, he furrowed his brow as James’ words set in.

“How the hell am I supposed to know when you’re gonna move if I’m not looking at your feet?” asked Qrow.

James raised an eyebrow. “Do you often stare at the feet and hands of your opponents in battle?”

Qrow flushed. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s really not. And I thought someone who had weaponized _ballet_ would know that.”

Qrow flushed darker. His ‘dance battling’, as the kids put it, had gotten him in a lot of conversations with Weiss, since she’d first seen him fight properly and not when he was mocking her sister. Her excitement that someone else could dance fight had been tempered only by the fact that Qrow hadn’t _known_ he was dance fighting. He’d been taught by a bandit who’d been a prima ballerina in her prime. And Miss Calavera, who he’d mimicked, had used her own culture’s dancing to fuel her fighting skills as well.

It was just happenstance that he was good at it.

“Look, I never claimed to be smart,” said Qrow, because it was the only thing he could think of.

James laughed, warm and bright, and shook his head. “You absolutely have. At length. Repeatedly. Mostly to my soldiers and my operatives.” He gave Qrow a flat look. “Remember when you told Clover you had more brain cells in your _shit_ than he had in his entire body?”

Qrow opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “All right, you know what? I’d say there’s a hell of a difference between claiming I’m smart and claiming I’m smarter than _Clover._ You’ve met Clover, right?” Qrow raised both eyebrows. “Right?”

“I hired him,” said James, drily.

“And I’m still not convinced that wasn’t entirely his semblance,” said Qrow. “And his ass.”

“Firstly, he’s far too young for both of us, so stop that.” Qrow grinned at James’ words. “Secondly, isn’t blaming a semblance on someone’s failings and successes a tad… wrong?” asked James. “Especially considering your feelings about your own?”

Qrow winced. Well. James had him there.

“All right, all right. Whatever. I’m not smart, I’m also a hypocrite, and I still don’t know how to fucking dance,” said Qrow, rolling his eyes. He took James’ hand back and squinted at him. “Happy?”

“I’m never happy,” deadpanned James, face and affect flat. Qrow raised both eyebrows. A moment later, they both burst out laughing, foreheads bent together until they brushed and laughter chasing the breaths against each other’s lips.

“You’re fucking hilarious,” said Qrow, drily. He bumped his forehead against James’ and James smiled at him. “You gonna show me how to dance or what?”

James hummed and bumped his forehead back against Qrow’s with a small smile. They swayed a bit in their kitchen, rocking side to side in minute motions beneath the warm yellow lights that James had replaced Atlesian fluorescents with long before they’d married. “There _is_ an art to it, Qrow. Relating it to something you understand and excel at is helpful.”

Qrow snorted. “The only thing I excel at is sucking—”

“ _Qrow_.” James’ voice was firm, but a tinge of amusement streaked through it, making Qrow grin. “Just… trust me, all right?”

“Always,” said Qrow, easily. He let James guide them back into the starting position for the dance, reluctantly pulling his forehead from James’. They’d cuddle later, when this was done. He’d live an hour or so. Or however long it took to learn even a few steps. “So, dancing?”

James hummed. “Dancing,” he agreed. He moved their arms a bit. “Think of it like a spar. Try and anticipate my movements before I make them, then react to them. I’ll step forward with my left foot and you step back with your right at the same time. Think you can manage that?”

Qrow huffed. _Probably not._ “Sure. Sounds easy enough.”

He watched James’ gaze, trying to find the shift in his muscles and—

James stepped on his foot. Qrow winced. At least it was his _left_ foot, so it wasn’t the weight of the prosthetic. But it still hurt.

“Sorry, I thought…” James winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m not dead yet,” said Qrow, voice slightly hoarse. “Shit, that hurts though.” He let out a quiet chuckle and lifted his foot to rub the top of it with one hand. “You figure I’d be better at anticipating your moves at this point.”

James hummed. “You’re thinking too hard. You need to stop thinking and just _feel_.”

Qrow raised both eyebrows, again. He did that a lot around James. “You’re not seriously saying that, are you? Jim, you overthink things better than anyone I know. You’re the _king_ of overthinking everything.”

James chuckled, warm and a little embarrassed. “All right, all right. I understand that. But one of the few things I don’t overthink is dancing. It’s muscle memory and beauty in motion, Qrow. A conversation between two bodies, unspoken but seen by all those who know the language. It’s… art. Poetry, I’d say. And if I never fought another battle in my life, I’d probably take up dancing part-time, if only for the similarities in the beats.”

Qrow blinked. He hadn’t known that about James. Funny how even after knowing each other for so long, being _married_ for so long, he still didn’t know everything about him. But that made it fun, to find the little details of one another that they’d missed despite so long together.

“Really?” asked Qrow. And damn, the way James talked about dancing made Qrow want to learn, just so they could dance together in their apartment. Sway together in the kitchen, prance around the living room. Twirl together in the elevator and on the way to the office. If James loved it so much, Qrow wanted to learn. Just to have another way to watch James light up with joy when Qrow was around to watch.

“It’s not something I talk about much. It’s not terribly becoming of a general…” James trailed off and Qrow took up the silence.

“No, it’s perfect,” said Qrow. “It suits you.”

James smiled. “You think?”

“Rarely,” replied Qrow, smiling crookedly, “but I like to think my thoughts are good, when I bother.”

James chuckled and pecked Qrow on the nose. “All right, all right. Let’s try again, then. Stop _thinking,_ since you’re apparently so good at that.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

They fell back into the starting position. Qrow took a breath and let himself stare at James. At his gentle blue eyes with their crow’s (heh) feet around the corners. At the smile and laugh lines around his mouth that were mostly hidden by his beard. At the rosiness at the tops of his cheeks, revealing his thoughts even as he tried to be on-topic.

A twitch of James’ shoulders. He stepped forward. Qrow stepped back. Too far, tipping a little, but James caught him and pulled him close again. Qrow grinned, one hand splayed against James’ sweater.

“Hey there, handsome,” drawled Qrow. “Come here often?”

James rolled his eyes, the visible parts of his skin flushing darker, and the tips of his ears turning bright pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m yours,” said Qrow. He gave a quiet hum and wiggled closer to James. “We managed one whole step though. Even if I did fuck it up at the end.” Dancing was proving far, far harder than Qrow thought it would. They had time until the gala. He could always learn more another day. Right now, he was feeling clingy.

“You know, we’re supposed to be dancing,” said James, but he wrapped his arms around Qrow’s waist and drew him close.

Qrow hummed and wound his arms around James’ neck. “Later,” said Qrow. “Think I’m enjoying this better.”

James sighed. “All right, but we’ll have to finish before the gala.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Qrow, wiggling his nose at him. “Now c’mere and gimme a kiss. You’re too far away.”

James chuckled and leaned in, capturing Qrow’s lips in a warm, firm kiss. Qrow hummed and tightened his arms around James’ neck, fingers burrowing into the hairs at the base of James’ neck. One of James’ hands slid up to Qrow’s lower back, pressing flat to the clothed skin there.

When they pulled back, just barely far enough to speak, Qrow said, “Might have to try this dancing thing more often.”

And James laughed and said, “I stand by what I said. You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” said Qrow.

“I do,” said James. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” And he kissed Qrow again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are deeply appreciated and adored! Thank you so much for reading. <3


End file.
